


Indirect Suicide

by Cerfblanc



Series: The Mental Pressure of Failure [9]
Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Brother Feels, Brotherly Affection, Family Angst, Implied/Referenced Abortion, M/M, Past Violence, Sam is really bad at explaining, Teen Angst, he’s still a kid okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 10:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13316397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerfblanc/pseuds/Cerfblanc
Summary: “If it weren’t for you I wouldn’t be here.” I say.





	Indirect Suicide

_**Year 1989** _

 

 

“Why did Mom leave us.”

Demanding was an understatement.

I was gonna have to explain the situation at some point, I knew that, it was behind me, I couldn’t just ignore it. It was going to surface. But I didn’t know it was going to surface now of all times.

“She didn’t leave us.” I say. Nathan looks at me. He looks sad. He’s afraid, somewhere, too. He’s apprehensive.

“Then why did Dad put us there.” His eyes flicked up to the direction of the orphanage. The one I had ran out of—the one that kicked me out. The one my brother had begged me to pull him out of.

I swallow. “Not sure.”

“You’re lying.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

His body shudders in the cold, and he rubs his arms, and I reach for him—hesitant—to give him comfort and everything else I hadn’t been able to give him until now, and he snaps at me like I’m the one who ruined it all. I get it.

“What happened?” He says, his voice cracking.

I wanted to be sick. “When Mom told me I was going to be a brother I was really happy.”

Nathan blinks. There’s tears in his eyes.

I close my eyes for a second. “Mom didn’t tell Dad she was pregnant,” I want to hurry everything up, get it over and done with and then I can walk away from him and leave him to cry it all out, “he wanted her to give you up.”

I stop for a moment, not sure whether to be concerned about my brother. Right now. His face is blank. He’s thinking. He’s thinking too much. It’s hurting him.

And I don’t care.

“Mom wanted to keep you. _I_ wanted to keep you. Dad didn’t.” I continue. “But when Mom died I…didn’t want you anymore. I thought you had killed her—“

“ _Okay_.”

My brother’s voice is a whisper.

I rush on, “I thought Dad was right and Mom was wrong after we got put in the orphanage,” _I can’t end the conversation like that, I need to fix it_ , “now that I understand…Dad was the bad guy.”

“And me?” He says. His eyes are pink. I don’t know what to say.

I think back to the fights. I think back to the screams.

The crying, the shouting, the breathing and the whispering and everything I remembered when I was tucked in my bed, the lights out and my bedroom door shut with the light turned on outside and hearing voices so harsh they depicted the scene so vividly in the front of my mind.

I remember wanting to leave through my bedroom window.

I remember wanting to bury myself.

I remember wanting to breathe underwater. 

All of it, like Mom.

“If it weren’t for you I wouldn’t be here.” I say. “If it weren’t for you I’d be dead.“


End file.
